


Think of him as a therapy dog

by SabineMichaelis



Series: 1995 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Brief Moments Of Happiness, Depression, Dogs, Dogs are the best, Fluff, Gen, It's not all sad, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, Sadness, Slow Burn, even when they are actually human men, halfblood star, mentions of abuse, no happy ending, prince padfoot, whatever this ship is called now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabineMichaelis/pseuds/SabineMichaelis
Summary: Sirius is out of Azkaban and in hiding, but has no place to live until Grimmauld place is made habitable. Dumbledore notices that Severus lives alone and has plenty of space for a dog, even if he really doesn't want one…Re-posted from my ff.net accountTakes place in the summer after tgof





	1. Chapter 1

“No.”

“It is the only logical option, Severus.” Dumbledore spoke calmly as ever, pale blue eyes gently bearing down on the sallow-skinned man standing next to the window of the office. Snape’s teeth were clenched, his hands tensed in fury.

“Is he not in possession of a house?” he spat. “The very house that we have been using as headquarters for the Order?” His voice had risen to a hoarse shout, though he looked sheepish when one of Dumbledore’s eyebrows twitched upwards.

“Sirius is indeed in possession of a house. However, as it has been abandoned for the past ten years it will take more than a few meetings in the kitchen to make it habitable.”

“But—” he spluttered “Can’t he just—do whatever it was he’s been doing since he escaped? I’m sure he’ll be much more satisfied with such arrangements.”

This time the silvery eyebrow did more than twitch, though there was a twinkle of amusement in the blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.

“Hide in the caves behind the castle catching rats? It is true, he is not thrilled with the idea of staying with you, Severus, but I cannot, in good conscience, send him back there. You are not a stranger to sacrifice, and this one is not so great as others in the past.”

Severus clenched his fist on the windowsill and glowered out the window at the school grounds. There was the lake, iron grey and placid as ever, save for occasional stirrings of the Giant Squid. There was the forest, shadowed and dangerous. The Whomping Willow. The Herbology classrooms. The scenes and sets of his childhood. 

“Look at Snivellus with his head in that library book!” 

“Better not get too close, or you’ll get grease all over it!”

It all returned to him as his eyes followed the small dark shapes of students going about their business on the grass. All the laughter returned, all the pain and humiliation. And that face, framed by dark hair as long as his own but somehow always windswept and attractive, contorted with mirth. How many times had he lain, dusty and bruised, as he stared up at that face? How many times had he been hexed or taunted in the hallways? It had been twenty years ago, yes, but it still stung. 

“I hate him.” He hissed, half to himself and half to the wizard who regarded him thoughtfully from the desk across the room. “And the feeling is quite mutual.”

“All I ask is that you keep him until Grimmauld place is in order.”

The request sounded so reasonable from his lips, even though it was far from it. Severus also noticed that the headmaster did not make any mention of when he would be able to get rid of the loathsome man. The headmaster sighed with the slightest hint of exasperation, then added with suspicious cheeriness.

“If it makes you feel any better, he will be in disguise as Snuffles for safety purposes.”

“Snuffles?” Severus repeated with extreme incredulity, turning to stare at Dumbledore in disbelief.

“Yes.” Dumbledore replied lightly, taking out a quill and ink as he closed the conversation.

“Think of him as a therapy dog. Having pets does wonders for stress relief.”

From his perch near Dumbledore’s desk, Fawkes trilled. Dumbledore smiled as Severus stormed out of the office, wondering gloomily how _he_  always ended up in these situations. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“There’s no need to glare at me like that. It’s not like I want to be here.” Black said indignantly from where he leaned with crossed arms against the shabby cabinetry of Severus’ kitchen. 

“Then why, pray tell,” Severus spoke through gritted teeth, “didn’t you say as much to Dumbledore so that we could avoid all this…” he could not find a word to describe the abhorrent situation he found himself in. Sirius Black was in his kitchen with tousled hair, a five o’clock shadow, and a mix of defiance and loathing on his thin face. It irked Snape, how casual he looked, lording about his kitchen as if it was his own. He was arrogant as ever, and even his stint in Azkaban had not seemed to rid him of the way he looked at Severus as if he were someone utterly beneath him, something utterly repugnant. Severus returned the sentiment, and made it clear with his tone of voice. Black visibly bristled, and for a moment Severus thought he might be transforming, but the voice that growled a reply was distinctly, though unfortunately, human.

“You think I didn’t try? I even explained what a slimy git you are and he still sent me here.”

“I’m a git, am I?” Anger flared in Severus’ chest, though a part of him knew he was being just as juvenile as the other man by responding to such an insult. 

“At least I’m not cowering in someone else’s house while better witches and wizards risk their lives.” He snapped, hoping to cow the other at least a bit. He thought he saw Black flinch, but he barked a reply without missing a beat.

“At least I’m not a grown man bullying a child for looking like the man who stole his childhood crush.”

Severus flushed with fury. To be accused of taking out his old anger at James on the boy, to hear his love for Lily so nonchalantly cheapened, it made him angrier than he had felt in a long time.

“Don’t you dare bring Lily into this—” Severus snarled.

He was brandishing his wand, though he could not recall taking it out of his robes.

“My, my. He’s barely been here ten minutes.” Dumbledore admonished mildly as he returned from the restroom. 

Severus lowered his wand, embarrassed to have been caught losing his temper. He did not take his eyes from Black, however. He, too, had lowered his wand, though he still clutched it so tightly his knuckles were white. Severus took a deep breath and did his best to empty his mind of all emotion before speaking in a careful, quiet voice.

“I will not have this man under my roof, Dumbledore.” 

The piercing blue eyes appraised him for a moment, and Severus felt distinctly uncomfortable. Something about those eyes always made him feel as if his mind was being slowly dissected, skilled occlumens or not. Then the moment was over, and Dumbledore smiled. 

“Which is exactly why he’ll stay here as a dog.”

Severus clenched his teeth and returned his gaze to Black, who still glared at him.

“I’ll bite you.” Black muttered darkly.

“I’ll have you neutered.” Hissed Severus with such hatred that the other man took a step back.

“The only thing either of you will do is act like adults.” Dumbledore interrupted loudly. 

“Sirius, now would be a good time to transform.”

___

 

Severus had been sitting in his small office for who knew how long. It had grown dark long ago, but he had neither noticed nor turned on a light. He was not working. 

He was thinking. 

How much of what Black had said was true? It was certainly not the first time these thoughts had invaded his mind, though it was the first time he had heard them voiced by someone else. Was he misinterpreting the boy’s motives? Projecting on him the cruelty he had seen in his father, cruelty that this time did not exist? Harry Potter was dreadful in his own right, surely. He had spent the past four years doing everything possible to get on Severus’ nerves. He showed an utter lack of respect for authority and his only talent seemed to be getting himself and others into trouble. But…how often had the trouble come from outside sources? And even if it was all the boy’s fault, he was—after all—only a teenager. Severus had made far worse decisions in those days, he had little right to judge. Decisions that had endangered people, decisions that had killed people. 

He had killed people.

His left forearm prickled, but he resisted the urge to look at the mark there. It was already far too late. Too late for Lily, too late for Severus, too late to dwell the hatred that stared him down from behind those all too familiar green eyes. 

Something scratched on the other side of the locked door. Then a bark shattered the silence and made him start. He had forgotten about Bla—Snuffles. He unlocked and opened the door with an irritable wave of his wand. 

“What?” he demanded, just as irritably, as the large black dog trotted in. 

Snuffles whined softly and stared at him expectantly. Severus was nonplussed.

“I’m afraid I’m not versed in annoying dog, so you’ll have to be more plain.” He snapped. 

Snuffles rolled his eyes and licked his chops pointedly, then whined again. Severus was just about to order the dog out and tell him to solve his own bloody problems, when he became aware of the gnawing hunger in his stomach. It grumbled audibly and Snuffles nodded in assent before turning and heading off, presumably, to the kitchen. 

Severus scoured the cabinets. There was not much there, and he realized that he could not remember when he had last eaten, let alone cooked. The milk in the fridge had gone off ages ago, and most of the other items were unrecognizable remnants of takeout or packets of ketchup. The dog whined again, and Severus glanced down at him. Their eyes met, and Severus glimpsed something other than hunger in the dark eyes.

“I… I’ve been away recently.” He muttered evasively, gingerly opening a box of white rice with the consistency of cement. He was not sure why Snuffles was looking at him with such concern, or why he cared enough about what the dog thought to lie. 

After disposing of everything in the refrigerator, he found a few packets of ramen. He had tossed the noodles into a small cauldron of boiling water—he had been too hungry to bother finding where his pots had gone—when a thought struck him. He eyed Snuffles uncertainly.

“Do dogs,” he paused and faltered, “do you eat ramen?”

Snuffles wagged his tail.

They ate in silence, though not as uncomfortable a silence as Severus had expected. It was surprisingly nice not to be alone in the cramped, silent house. And there was something endearing about the dog version of Black. Perhaps he was less infuriating on four legs, perhaps it was merely difficult to despise a dog. 

Severus sent the empty bowls floating into the sink, where they began to wash themselves. Snuffles rested his head between his paws, looking sleepy and content. Severus almost smiled.

“You’re much less insufferable when you can’t say anything stupid.” He mused. 

Snuffles growled, but there was not much malice in the sound. 

___

 

Severus’s mattress bounced gently as another weight settled on it. He was on his back, staring up at the crack in the plaster that he always forgot to mend, but did not need to turn his head to deduce who was shaking the mattress. 

“You may look like a mangy dog, Black, but you’re still the last man on earth I’d let into my bed, so sod off.” Severus grumbled, silently cursed himself for the childish insult. Black always brought out the worst in him. It did the trick, though. Something in his tone made the dog get off the bed immediately and return to the nest of cushions on the floor.

“Therapy dog.” Severus snorted and turned over so his back was to the place where the animagus slept.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m going to the grocery.” Severus declared when Snuffles sniffed quizzically at his dark cardigan and jeans. He did not like wearing Muggle garments, it reminded him too much of his childhood, but it really was easier and cheaper to buy things like milk and eggs at the non-magical grocery a few streets over. At least there the chances of purchasing banshee milk by mistake or running into a student were slim to none. Snuffles cocked his head in bemusement, ears flopping ridiculously, and Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Not all of us are fortunate enough to have family homes fully equipped with dedicated house elves. Not that you’d know that.” He meant to sneer, but it was very difficult to sneer at a dog. Snuffles seemed to ignore the comment, for in the next moment he bounded over to the front door and wagged his tail expectantly. Severus followed at a much less animated pace, all the while sifting through his wallet to make sure he had enough Muggle money. When he reached the door, Snuffles scratched it with a paw, as if to say Hurry up, it’s time to go! Severus narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. You can’t come.” He scoffed.

Snuffles whined pitifully, staring up at Severus with mournful eyes. 

“You cannot come.” Severus stated firmly, stepping over the dog to open the door.

___

 

It was a grey day, with a light drizzle making everything blurred and slightly moist, but Snuffles was so enthusiastic it might have been the tropics. 

“Stop acting like such a dolt.” Severus seethed when Snuffles splashed through yet another puddle with all the zest of a puppy. Water droplets clung to the polyester fibres of Severus’s black cardigan and the cuffs of his trousers were damp. He was chilly and irritated, but Snuffles was utterly oblivious to the pallid man’s sour mood. The dog was indefatigable, conversing with the few dogs and children who passed them by. Severus did his best to staunchly ignore his antics. 

And then, at some point during the short walk, something odd occurred. His exasperation drained away. He felt himself relax—though he did not mean to. He was always so on guard when he was out, always uncomfortable and mistrustful of even the smallest gesture, but something about having the warm cheerful presence next to him was soothing. The rain slowly lightened, and by the time they reached the shop the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds, and Severus may have possibly smiled.

The sliding automatic doors made Snuffles yelp in surprise. Severus choked back a laugh and ushered the wary creature inside. The doors were quickly forgotten when Snuffles caught the scent of the deli in the back. He padded next to Severus as they navigated the aisles, staring around in awe and wagging his tail. 

“Haven’t you ever been to a Muggle grocery?” Severus inquired as Snuffles nosed a box of corn flakes. Snuffles shook his head seriously and eyed the frozen food aisle with curiosity. 

“Oi, you! Is that your dog?” a man shouted from somewhere behind them.

Severus turned slowly, realizing as he did so that the movement could not be particularly impressive without robes, and spoke with slow contempt to the rotund, red-faced fellow at the head of the aisle. 

“I suppose.” 

The store’s blue uniform polo was stretched to breaking point over the man’s heaving stomach as he pointed accusingly at Snuffles.

“Yeah, well, you can’t have dogs in here. Unsanitary, it is.”

Snuffles snorted indignantly, but Severus almost laughed. 

“Go home, I’ll meet you there.” He murmured to the dog, who still had his hackles up after being called ‘unsanitary’. Even on a dog’s face, Severus recognized that stubborn set of his jaw from their school days.

“Go.” He insisted, shoving the dog’s side with his shin. 

Snuffles glared at the man as he skulked away. Severus heard a small yip from the front of the store as the automatic doors startled him a second time.

“He must be very smart to know his way home alone.” Commented a motherly middle aged woman who had observed the entire exchange from further down the aisle. Severus’ obvious utter lack of interest seemed not to faze her, for she continued even as he pored over the back of a box of Shreddies.

“My Rufus gets lost looking for the back door if I let him out—”

“Not really.” Severus interrupted, tossing the cereal into his cart absently.

The woman stared at him in befuddlement as he was attacked by a fit of unwanted chuckles.

“He isn’t really very smart.”

He fled the aisle before she could say anything else. 

___

 

Snuffles was curled on the front step when Severus returned home—the wards on the house (as well as the lack of a dog door) having prevented him from entering. He was still a bit miffed when he saw Severus, and the look he gave nearly made Severus lose control of his emotions for a second time that day. Annoyance on a floppy eared, fluffy frame was really more adorable than anything else. Not that Severus was going to admit that, even to himself.  

He placed the many plastic bags on the kitchen table with a sigh of relief. Even with a charm to make the bags lighter, they had left red marks on his palms and thin fingers. Snuffles followed him in and prodded the bags, sniffing inquisitively. His ears perked up when he found a pre-cooked chicken breast in cellophane, but Severus snatched it off the table just in time. 

“Not for you.” He chided, as if to a child. 

And, like a child, Snuffles pouted. 

___

 

Severus rarely left the house, preferring minimal interaction when Dumbledore had no “errands” for him to run. He had things to do besides; lesson plans to draw up, potions to brew. He spent his life in the office. 

Snuffles interrupted that life. He wanted food, he wanted to be let into the backyard, he wanted things to do, he wanted to just irritate the hell out of Severus. As the week wore on, he grew more and more restless and more and more insufferable. When he scratched on Severus’ office door for the third time that hour, causing him to spill an extra drop of armadillo bile into the cauldron and thereby ruining the potion, Severus shouted at him.

“Whatever you want, get it yourself! It isn’t as if you haven’t got bloody thumbs!”

The following Thursday, Snuffles had become so maddening that Severus decided they needed to leave the house before he strangled the furry creature. They walked to the grocery again, and as before the open space did wonders for Snuffles’ temperament. He quickly lost his sullen edge, and Severus even felt his own mood lighten. This time Snuffles only dropped Severus off at the door before heading back home, casting a fleeting glare at the sliding doors. 

When Severus was examining the frozen dinners, thunder shook the store. Rain slapped the windows and roared in with the wind whenever the doors opened to welcome another stumbling, dripping figure. Grayish puddles formed on the linoleum tiles, dampening the hems of his dark trousers and forming grimy shoeprints wherever anyone walked. The chill permeated everything, making the frozen food aisle hellishly uncomfortable.

“Oi! You can’t bring that thing in here! It’s dripping everywhere!” yelped the now-familiar voice of that furiously flushed employee from somewhere towards the front of the store.

“You’re not making my baby stand out there in this gale!” retorted an equally furious, though female, voice.

“He’s soaked through already, if he goes outside he’ll surely catch his death!” she shrilled, grating voice reverberating off the walls and ceiling.

“That’s not my problem! My problem is keeping this store clean and sanitary.” 

Severus was, despite himself, curious to see the “baby” in question. He put the packages in his basket, then made his way to the front of the store on the pretense of finding the pre-packaged scones. The argument continued, escalating in pitch and volume, as he moved towards it. Peeking around the display of baked pies, Severus saw a tiny woman in galoshes holding a terrier protectively.  _ Damn. _ He thought as his mind raced back home to Snuffles. He hurried from the store with only half the items on his list.

___

 

The weather was even worse than it had looked from inside. The rain was less like individual drops, and more like a great opaque wall. It was like wading across the bed of a lake, and he would have been just that waterlogged at the end of his labors had be not cast an impervius charm on himself and his groceries. However, the impervius could not keep out the cold—which gnawed at his bones through his wool cardigan—nor the wind—which battered him cruelly. It was slow going; the elements making the few blocks between the store and his house seem eternal. When he finally glimpsed his front door, he was windswept, frozen, and sorry for himself. But his self-pity was entirely forgotten when he saw the dark dripping form curled on the step. Snuffles was soaked. His fur had been matted by the wind and drenched by the freezing rain. For one horrible suffocating moment, Severus thought that he was dead. Then the dog shivered, looked up at him, and wagged his tail feebly.

He carried him inside, cradling the huge dog as if he were a child and placing him on the parlor rug. He dried him with a spell, but Snuffles still cast such a pitiful figure that Severus kindled the long-disused parlor fireplace. The dog lay limply on the frayed carpet before the fire, moving only to draw labored breaths and occasionally shudder from the chill. Severus fetched a quilt, then two. 

Snuffles began to sneeze.

Severus scoured his office frantically for ingredients, then began to brew a Pepper Up potion. His work was slower than usual, for every few minutes he had to check to make sure that Snuffles was all right. Each time he looked in, he felt a prickle of guilt. 

Snuffles was too weak to raise his head and drink from a bowl, so Severus knelt next to him and fed him the potion in spoonfuls. Each small amount elicited a puff of steam from his ears and eased his breathing. Snuffles lay his head on Severus’ lap, then closed his eyes. 

“This is my fault.” Murmured Severus, only half speaking to Snuffles.

Snuffles opened his eyes slowly in response, then looked at him reassuringly as if to say: No it’s not. Severus was not reassured. He had sent the dog home, not even thinking about the possibility that Snuffles might need to enter the house on his own. It was his responsibility to keep him safe, whether he wanted to or not.

“I should have—” he began, but the words caught in his throat. It was difficult to admit that he had been wrong.

“Well, since you live here for now…I suppose,” Severus could not recall the last time he had been so inarticulate. Finally, he gave up on words and waved his wand, conjuring a dark leather collar.

“This will let you pass by the wards and enter the house on your own.” He explained softly, fastening it around Snuffles’ neck. 

The plastic bags of groceries lay forgotten in the entryway.


	4. Chapter 4

The storm had died down hours ago, but Severus could still hear the soft patter of drizzle on his window. Whistling wind mingled with the soft breathing of Snuffles from where he lay wrapped in blankets on the floor. The Pepper Up potion had been a great deal of help, and the dog’s breathing was now deep and regular. The knot of worry that had taken up residence in Severus’ abdomen a few hours before was unraveling. In fact, now that the danger had passed, he was beginning to wonder why, exactly, he had been so worried in the first place. It was unlikely that the dog would have died, even if he had been left on the doorstep all night. A chill could  _ probably _ not kill a dog, and even if it could, “Snuffles” was not a dog. “Snuffles” was an arrogant, insufferable ass and the last person on Earth for Severus to be worrying about. Black could take care of himself. And if he could not, well, that would hardly be a loss for Severus or the rest of the world. He turned onto his side, suddenly feeling tense and restless as his mind replayed the last several hours to remind him exactly how embarrassing he had been. Likely, Black would never let him hear the end of it once he was installed in Grimmauld Place. Severus’ jaw clenched. 

He tossed and turned for a while, but to no avail. Each time he settled into a comfortable position, a memory pricked at him, forcing him to shift again. At last he resigned himself to another night spent working, but his limbs were like lead and his mind was growing cloudy with lack of sleep. Too agitated to sleep, too exhausted to do anything productive, it seemed that tonight was going to be another of those spent staring listlessly at ceiling. The plaster was grey and flaky, illuminated by the mingled moonlight and dim red light of his alarm clock. The familiar long crack wound its way from the far corner of his bed to just above his face, where it forked. He would have to repair that in the morning.

The world began to blur as sleep at last came to claim Severus. And then, someone shifted in the corner and he heard that loud, hoarse, hated laugh. Sleep fled and Severus’ eyes narrowed in irritation.

“I’m a pathetic outlaw.” Black murmured.

“Months living off roadkill and a single storm almost kills me.” He laughed again, but this time the bark-like noise became a dry cough that did not seem to end. Against his will, Severus looked towards the dark silhouette concernedly. His concern irritated him.

“Do you know what time it is?” he snapped.

“I guess I’m going soft at last.” Black continued as if Severus had not spoken, which irked him even more.

“Late.” He spat, staring steadfastly at the ceiling now, “It’s goddamn late, Black.”

Black’s chuckling subsided into silence and after a long moment Severus wondered if he had dozed off. But no, he heard the whisper of blankets as the man shifted again and felt the mattress vibrate slightly. He glanced in Black’s direction and saw a shaggy head and pale forearms propped on the edge of his bed. The moonlight had turned the other man’s face into a form of minimalist art—a silvered cheek, a glinting eye, the curve of a lip. Black was not looking at him, rather staring at the sheet intently. Another moment dragged by until at last Black looked up, prompting Severus to turn back to the ceiling, and spoke.

“Thanks, Severus.”

Severus could not quite process the words. There was no bite to them, none of the sarcasm or mocking he had come to expect. Still, this was Black speaking, so his next words were carefully hostile. 

“I’m not allowed to let you die.”

“You could have told Dumbledore I ran off and you found me dead of exposure.”

Severus rolled his eyes. Was Black drunk on too much Pepper Up potion or just trying to lure Severus into making a fool of himself for the second time that night? Either way, he was not going to take the bait and dignify anything else the man said with a response. He let Black’s words hang in the air until the silence became oppressive and the other man realized he was not going to respond. Rather than giving up, however, Black continued.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ve given you no reason to do anything for me.” 

There was a strange quality to his tone. His voice was soft, pensive, a whisper that was strangely intimate. Severus had never heard him like this. Black laughed again—wry and quiet.

“In fact, no one would fault you for treating me like what I am—a man who tried to kill you for fun and treated you with nothing but spite since. I’m not proud of the way I acted as a young man, or even as a grown one. The fact that you’d even let me stay here is proof that you’re a better man than I’ve ever been.”

And then Black’s voice cracked and Severus had no idea what to do. His mind was still reeling, playing and replaying the words he had just heard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Black was looking down again, curly fringe obscuring his face from view. Severus looked away quickly. He heard Black’s uneven breaths and felt more bewildered than he ever had in his entire life. He also felt something else—a small, warm feeling that he did not know how to deal with. And so Severus did the only thing he knew how to do with Black, he turned away and snorted:

“You’re ridiculous. What’s got you so sentimental all of a sudden?” 

The reply was hoarse, but blessedly steady.

“The man I’ve tormented for twenty or so years is hosting me and just nursed me to health. Wouldn’t you be?”

Severus swallowed and fought down whatever sentimental words seemed to want to escape his lips.

“I’m going to sleep, Black. Save your rambling for someone who cares.”

He closed his eyes. His shoulder and neck were cramping but there was no way he was going to turn towards Black.

“Listen, please…” Black begged.

He wanted to block out the man’s words. He had every right to. Black had said it himself. But, against his better judgment and the urging of the grudge he had held for over twenty years, he listened. 

“Whatever I called you when we were young, you’ve become one of the bravest men I know. You even cared for Harry when I couldn’t, though he reminds you of someone who treated you almost as badly as I did, and for that I can’t even begin to thank you. I know words don’t count for much after all that I’ve done, and perhaps it’s selfish of me even ask you to forgive me, but… you don’t deserve the way I’ve treated you. I’m sorry. And thank you.”

The silence stretched on into the night. Somehow, though he could not see him, Severus knew that Black and transformed back into Snuffles. He was glad of it. Sirius Black was far too confusing as a man.


	5. Chapter 5

“Accio, ramen.”

“ACCIO, RAMEN.”

“I swear, if you’ve hidden the ramen again, we’re going to the pound, not the grocery.” Severus snarled as he scoured the cabinets, wand brandished, for the third time. 

As usual, Snuffles only responded with infuriatingly innocent puppy eyes from where he sprawled on the linoleum. Unconcernedly, he watched Severus scramble as the cauldron of water began to boil over onto the electric stovetop. Severus cursed, levitated the cauldron to the counter, and spun around with a hex on his lips. Snuffles was already scratching on the front door. 

___

 

The incorporation of “Snuffles” into Severus’ life had not gotten any easier. His father had disliked animals, and Severus had learned early on to steer clear of his displeasure. Partly for safety, partly for Severus’ peace of mind, Black rarely took human form. While this spared Severus much irritation, the self-imposed muteness caused its own set of problems. Sirius had no way to communicate, and Severus was completely clueless when it came to living with and caring for someone else. 

He was not sure if the transition was made more or less difficult by Snuffles’ humanity. Severus often forgot that the infectiously optimistic, energetic creature was the arrogant boy and brooding, insufferable man he had known. It was easier to forget reality than to loathe the fluffy form that pouted by the door when the weather was fair and he wanted a walk. 

It was strange that how much the seemingly unobtrusive presence had changed his life. Nearly twenty years of reclusive bachelor habit had been overturned. He could no longer shut himself in the office to brew and read for days on end without Snuffles nosing in to ask for something. A meal, a walk, some form of entertainment—his demands were endless. He was restless and uninterested in the house’s many potions tomes, even driving Severus to uncover the ancient Muggle television set he had inherited with his childhood home. That had captivated Snuffles for about a week, after which he had become restless and begun enacting his latest scheme—hiding important items to make Severus leave the house. After the fifth time Snuffles secreted away groceries and Severus hexed him, they agreed to visit the park on Mondays. It was a little inconvenient, but weekends were out of the question—Severus was only willing to put up with so many small children bothering him to pet the dog. He had thought that would be the end of the dog’s wanderlust, but it seemed he had been mistaken.

___

 

The grey, waterlogged morning had somehow turned impossibly hot and humid. Severus’ wool pullover stuck to his skin and itched as he tried to hurry to the grocery. Obviously, Snuffles did not care that a draught was stewing next to an untouched stack of ungraded coursework, since he took this as a chance to wander off and interact with neighborhood children. He chased a squirrel, investigated some pamphlet on the ground, conversed with the other pets, and generally made every attempt to slow them down. 

“Damn it, dog. I’ll leave you behind if you don’t keep up.” 

Snuffles glanced up at him dismissively from where he had been pawing at a frog. Severus knew that Snuffles knew he would do no such thing, however much he may have wanted to. When they finally reached the store, Snuffles surprised him by slinking inside next to him, rather than returning to the house. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, keeping an eye out for the obstreperous attendant. Snuffles made no response until Severus turned towards the noodle aisle only to find his way blocked by the glaring dog. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“What now?” he huffed, “Are you being stupid for a reason, or just for your health?”

This time the dog rolled his eyes before taking Severus’ sleeve between his teeth and jostling him with all his considerable strength towards the fresh vegetables. 

The refrigerated area holding a kaleidoscope of fruits and vegetables smelled clean and refreshing, even if it chilled the sweat beneath Severus’ jumper and made him shiver. 

“I should make you eat dog food, you ungrateful prat.” He muttered irritably, earning another shove, but he let the large dog lead him. Loathe as he was to admit it, he, too, was sick of instant noodles and frozen food. This raised another set of problems. He gazed warily at the broccoli and tomatoes, two of the only foods he recognized in the sea of things he had only had from dehydrated packets (or pre prepared by Hogwarts house elves) for the past twenty or so years. It was clear Snuffles was just as lost—Azkaban was not known for its gourmet cooking. Severus picked up an avocado? artichoke? and sniffed it ruefully. He was a brilliant potion maker, but Muggle cooking had always escaped him. There was no single recipe for anything, and one could follow all the directions only to end up with a tasteless mess. A huge furry head butted his thigh, making him drop the unidentified food with a muffled curse. Snuffles looked up at him, proffering what looked like a glossy paperback held gingerly in his mouth. Severus took it curiously, then glowered as he read the title.

“No.”

___

 

Severus left the store with several heavy paper bags, a smug Snuffles, and a slightly slobbery recipe book called “The Bachelor’s Kitchen: Easy Meals for the Single Man.”

___

 

He was embarrassed to find that his ordinary pots and pans were languishing dustily in the attic, and scoured them with magic and by hand while ignoring what seemed to be laughter from Snuffles (though how a dog could laugh he was not sure). After the kitchen and its accessories were fit to be used, Snuffles nudged him until he put the cookbook in his lap, then nosed the pages until they found something both of them could live with.  That night he made chicken parmesan, at which point he discovered that he only owned four chipped cups, two bowls, a plate from his mother’s wedding china, and an odd assortment of bent silverware from the sixties. 

___

 

They took a trip to a Muggle department store after that. Life settled into a series of new habits: sunny afternoons in parks, groceries, cooking triumphs and disasters, and something like companionship from a certain stupid demanding dog. And, occasionally, Severus allowed himself to enjoy the changes in his life. 

___

 

It was a whole month before his nightmares returned. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Severus Snape woke strangling on an unvoiced sob, tears burning in his eyes, drenched in sweat and tangled in his sheets. He could not breathe. If he breathed, he knew he would weep, and he refused to cry again. Then the lack of oxygen made the dark silhouettes of his room tilt and whirl sickeningly. Figures seemed to loom from the shadows, stretching out to shove him back into the dream. They came closer with cold fingers that would grab him by the hair and drag him into the darkness. His heart thudded so loudly he was certain they could hear it, if they were real. 

He reached out a hand, clawing at the air in a vain attempt to fend off the phantoms and his tears. Instead of frigid empty air however, his hands fumbled over a solid shape. The surprise forced him to gasp, finally giving his lungs what they cried for. Far too dazed and exhausted to consider or care what he clutched, he gulped the cold air until the room came back into focus. He buried his face in the fur and, miraculously, managed not to cry. 

___

 

Beams of sunlight dodged around the curtains to illuminate the bedroom. Severus opened his eyes to find that he was, once again, alone. The only proof of last night’ ordeal were the dog hairs that littered the rumpled sheets. His limbs ached as though he had lost a fight, but his head was miraculously clear of the usual haze of sleeplessness. He drew a hand across his face, letting his own chill jolt him awake. 

He was expecting Black to be lurking around corners armed with a snide comment, but the day began with stunning normalcy. After catching glimpses of the dog going about his own business, Severus shut himself in his office to work. Had he not felt so on edge about the lack of disturbances from Snuffles, he might have finished all the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor fourth year essays. As it was, he ended the morning with a substantial stack of waiting Gryffindors and a stress headache. 

___

 

Shadows stretched across the floor as the sun made its slow journey across the sky. At noon, the silhouette of dark paws appeared in the gap between the door and floor. They paced for a while, and then waited silently until it became clear that Severus was not going to open the door. Snuffles departed towards the kitchen, and Severus convinced himself that his fast was due to a zealous desire to grade, rather than the cold lump at the pit of his stomach when he thought of facing Black. 

At three in the afternoon, Snuffles returned and scratched at the door. Severus made no move to stand, hoping that Black might take the cue and leave him alone. Of course, it was too much to expect him to be considerate twice in one day. The scratching continued, punctuated by short barks. Severus clenched his teeth, dipped his quill again, and critiqued the mediocre works with a vindictive pleasure. He was so engrossed in crossing out and commenting that he did not realize Snuffles had found his way into the office until the dog placed two big furry paws over Colin Creevey’s ink spattered essay on bezoars.  

“Go away.” He snapped, jerking the parchment towards him.

There was, of course, no response.

“Go away.” He growled, steadfastly keeping his eyes on his desk.

In the face of Severus’ growing wrath, the dog dropped his leash before him. It landed in the inkpot, further blemishing Creevey’s parchment with red blotches. There was a lump in Severus’s throat that might have been fury and his knuckles stood out bone white on his fists. The scene was familiar, from the tension in his body to the sense that Black was smiling above him, waiting for him to respond. How many times had he felt this sting of shame? How many times had this anxiety gripped his heart? Even as a dog, Black still—

A cool wet nose touched his furrowed brow. Startled, Severus looked up. Large eyes stared calmly at him from the slim dark face. Snuffles whined softly, and pushed the inky leash towards him. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he saw no judgment in those brown eyes. Perhaps a dog’s face cannot express contempt. 

 

___

 

On a Thursday night, Severus woke breathless and terrified, sobbing into a black dog’s fur for the third time that week. He was not sure which was more painful, the vivid memory still clawing at him or the shame of letting someone else see him this way. The shame won tonight, and he stumbled out into the hallway with ragged breaths. It was pitch dark, reminding him of his childhood when he had faced the long nighttime walk to the bathroom with visceral fear. He tripped over his overlarge pajamas and fell. He stayed on the ground until the soft padding of large paws spurred him up and through his office door. He locked the door just as Snuffles’ breaths could be heard beyond it. He lay listlessly on the carpet, not bothering to pray for sleep, trying not to hear the sounds of the dog outside his office. Eventually the room lightened, and he began to sift through the papers on his desk.

Severus eased his office door open to see corridor filled with afternoon light. If he was quiet, perhaps he could tiptoe to the bathroom without alerting—he tripped over something huge and hairy that was curled in front of the doorway. 


	7. Chapter 7

It was that damp ghostly time between night and morning when Severus Snape slid quietly into the house on Spinner’s End. He was past tired, shrouded in a twilit numbness as he stumbled down the halls towards the bedroom. Dazedly, he registered that the house smelled musky and lived-in, more like a home than it ever had before. He staggered down the hallway, glancing into his bedroom to see Snuffles splayed across the floor, dark side rising and falling gently. He watched the dog sleeping for a moment, envying his peace, before walking past his bedroom to sink into his office chair. It was a flimsy Muggle thing, textured black plastic and poly foam that was not in the least bit comfortable, but he did not mind. He was certain that it would be better if he did not sleep tonight.

The electric light bulb in his desk lamp needed replacing—it flickered like candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the wall that recalled Severus to his recent unpleasant hours. 

___

 

The Dark Lord accepted nothing less than unswerving devotion, of course. Severus had known that, but the knowledge could not lessen the pain of the images that now played on the inside of his eyelids. There had been a woman, of course. There was always a woman when the Dark Lord was involved. Severus supposed the Dark Lord enjoyed exacting pain on the memory of his mother, or perhaps he just liked to watch Severus squirm. 

The Muggle woman’s face rose before him again, blood shining in the auburn hair that curtained pleading eyes.

“Of course I do not deny your usefulness in the past, Severus, but I must ensure that your loyalty to me does not falter.”

“Of course I am loyal, my lord. I value your service above my own life.”

The Dark Lord had laughed then, a high cold laugh that echoed off the planes of the room.

He had killed her, of course. How could he have done anything else? As the woman’s blood crept across the stones towards the hem of Severus’ robes, the Dark Lord had given him his orders.

___

 

He wrenched himself away from the images again and shuffled his papers with shaking hands. However, even as he backed away from the recent memory, another bloodstained cascade of hair filled his mind. He shut his eyes.

_ Clear your mind _ . He chided himself, to no effect.

_ Clear your mind _ . 

He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, willed himself to find the place of numbness where he could stop caring and do what needed to be done. A distant rumble of thunder broke his tenuous control and he put his head in his hands.

___

 

He would spend the rest of his life reliving and atoning for his worst moments. If anyone deserved that, he thought, it was him. Some nights he wished he could run away from everything. Dumbledore would not look for him, he knew. Somehow, the thought that he would not be missed was worse than the idea of a life on the run from the Ministry. Where could he go, besides? Everywhere he went, there he was. 

Coward. Traitor. Murderer. 

Dumbledore was not a trusting man, even if Severus had been deserving of such trust, and had never disclosed the final details of the plan. However, Severus Snape was not a fool. He knew what awaited him, one way or another, and almost welcomed it. He had spent his whole life being a means to an end, an excuse for other people to take what they wanted. At least, this time, he might serve a greater good. 

___

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a patch of darkness slinking across the shadowy office. He closed his eyes as the dog padded towards him and settled behind his chair. Some time passed before a voice that Severus had not heard in weeks inquired: 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Severus responded with reflexive acidity.

“What do you care for my thoughts, Black? I’m just another jailer until Dumbledore has somewhere else he’d rather keep you.”

He expected a sharp response, the familiar cruel banter that characterized their encounters, but the only response was silence. It stretched for so long that Severus wondered if Black had transformed back into a dog, or if he was even still there at all. 

“I know you resent it.” Severus murmured into the void. He was unsure to whom he spoke.

“I know you resent me, a man weak enough to fear his dreams…” 

He was clutching his head so tightly now that his brutally short nails had begun to cut into his skin. The discomfort brought him back to the moment, the dark office, the reality in which no one cared if he woke up screaming as long as he followed orders in the morning. He opened his eyes.

“You aren’t weak.” 

Again, the voice startled Severus. 

“I—” he began, but the other wizard interrupted.

“Listen to me, damn it!” 

Sirius grabbed the office chair and wrenched it around so Severus faced where he knelt on the ground. The flickering bulb shadowed the hollows of his face, bringing out the ghosts of Azkaban that still lurked in the lines of the once handsome countenance. The dark eyes shone intensely as they glared into Severus’ own. 

“I’ve hated you for a long time. I hated the way you wandered around Hogwarts like some tragic genius forced into the dark arts.” 

Severus tried to look away, but Black’s eyes captured his own again.

“Even now, you act like you’re the only man on Earth with regrets, the only one who has suffered.”

His voice rose from a growl to a snarl, twisting his face into something almost inhuman.

“Do you think only you have night terrors? Only you have things you’d rather forget? I killed Lily and James!”

This time, it was Black who looked away. 

“I killed them as much as you did.” 

His hands fell limply to the ground, his shoulders slumped, the shaggy head bowed. For an instant, Severus felt the urge to reach out to the trembling form, and then Black seemed to steel himself and spoke again.

“We made mistakes, but mistakes don’t make us bad people and remembering doesn’t make us weak. You have to believe that, Severus, or you might as well let the dementors have you.”

With that, Sirius Black shuddered and collapsed into a dog again before bolting from the room.

 


	8. Chapter 8

They did not talk about it, as they did not talk about a great many things.

 

           This time, though, the day did not dawn on Severus cloistering himself in his office. He left the door ajar, nodded curtly to the tentatively wagging tail that greeted him, and then did his best to behave as though nothing had changed. He felt drained and anesthetized as he walked about in yesterday’s robes, busily accomplishing absolutely nothing. As the day wore on, he tiptoed—for lack of a better word—between kitchen and study hoping to steer clear of the dog whose humanity was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

___

 

           Somewhere on the desolate side of three in the morning, exhaustion hit him like the Whomping Willow. The room swam before his eyes as he reached in vain for the empty coffee pot. He sighed, yawned broadly, and slid into the corridor.

 

           From the shadows at the end of the hall, two dark eyes glimmered. They watched Severus intently until he met them. In response, tufted ears pricked attentively and a tail thumped on the carpet. Severus opened his mouth, but no tart remark could spring to mind. The dog stared at him with expectation—and perhaps something else that Severus did not wish to contemplate at the moment. So, he turned away in silence.

___

 

           It seemed that Snuffles had learned to interpret subtext. For the next few days, Severus only occasionally saw him slinking around corners or lying listlessly in slivers of sunlight. The dog seemed introspective, conflicted even. Then again, Black had never been conflicted about anything in his life. Like most Gryffindors, he was eternally, arrogantly sure of himself.

 

           Days bled into one another as Severus worked mechanically. The weekend passed without comment. He pushed himself to dull the memories of what he had done and dim the knowledge of what he was yet to do. A part of him also hoped that he could make the days fly by if he spent them in his office. Then Black would leave and the school year would start and everything could go back to normal. No more Muggle children smiling at him as he waited for Snuffles. No more “Easy Meals for Single Men”. No more waking up to clutch at someone like his life depended on him. No more pondering every word that person said and second-guessing the way he himself had lived his life.

___

 

           Monday dawned bright and lovely, a fact that Severus only dimly noticed as he traversed the house. Snuffles was nowhere to be seen.

 

           There was a niggling sense that he had forgotten to do something important, though he could not quite recall what it was. To distract from the useless anxiety, he busied himself with a particularly temperamental potion. The unease grew regardless. The cauldron was simmering calmly, subtly changing in hue, when the front door burst open.

 

           “What—” Severus started, before being interrupted by clamorous barking.

 

           Snuffles ran headlong down the hallway, barking at the top of his voice. Upon seeing Severus, the huge dog leapt up and shoved him out of the kitchen with all his considerable weight. He was insistent, pushing Severus down the corridor in spite of his protests, making more noise than any animal should be able to on his own. His eyes were bright and he panted heavily as he herded the wary and baffled man out the door.

 

           Severus rushed into the front yard, his hand fumbling in his robes for his wand. He took three steps into the sunny grass before the world collapsed under him. His wand flew from his hand. For an instant, he thought that someone had planted a portkey, until his hip hit the ground painfully.

 

           His entire left leg had been swallowed up by a hole.

 

           A hole in his front yard.

 

           A hole that had most likely been dug by the hound that stared down at him smugly.

 

           “You,” Severus’s usually pallid face was flushed with anger as he spluttered apoplectically.

           “Immature!” He tried in vain to extract himself from the ground.

            “Moronic!” He spat, scrabbling for purchase against the grass, knowing he must look ridiculous.

 

           Snuffles was writhing on the ground in what were unmistakable paroxysms of laughter.

 

           “Do you just get off on making my life marginally more irritating?” Severus snarled, not caring that the whole street could see and hear him losing an argument with a dog.

 

            Snuffles stilled suddenly, and then placed his front paws on Severus’ shoulders, effectively silencing him. Snuffles’ paws were nearly as large as a man’s hands and his weight felt more like a person than an animal. This position placed them eye to eye for the first time in a long while. Brown eyes met black quite seriously. Severus half expected Sirius to change, to speak, to express in that familiar voice the strange meaning he seemed to wish to convey. But he did not. He merely met the other wizards eyes steadily, letting their labored breaths mingle. At last, Severus looked away.

 

           “What was the point?” he muttered, attempting to dredge up the fury that had filled him moments ago. The words came out unsure. Somehow, they encompassed more than the mess in his yard. Snuffles snuffled tenderly at his face, mustelidian whiskers tickling Severus's cheeks.

___

 

           And then, the potion exploded.

 

           The dog met Severus’ eyes again and waggled his eyebrows.

 

           All at once, the irritation returned. Snuffles bounded away, only returning to drop his leash in front of the furious professor. Of course. It was a Monday.

 

           There were some things they did not need to talk about.


	9. Chapter 9

The dog took up much more of the bed than he had any right to. Everywhere Severus turned, he was confronted by thick black fur. Loathe as he was to admit it, the nightly companionship made his nightmares less frequent and rather less intense. Something about the almost oppressive warmth and steady heartbeat recalled him to reality faster than any midnight cup of coffee. Even without the admittance, however, Snuffles seemed to have figured it out himself because he would not let Severus bully him out of the bed anymore.

___

 

Sunlight and the shock of a cold nose on the side of his face woke Severus Snape. He made to stretch, only to encounter a wall of hair. 

“Move.” He grumbled at the animal.

Snuffles opened one eye lazily, moaned, and closed it again. In vain, Severus tried to push the dog away from him.

“Go do something useful.” He mumbled, leveling sleepy punches at the broad furry side. 

One ear perked up and a dark brown eye regarded him flippantly, as if to say 

“Like what, exactly?”

Severus wracked his mind for something, anything that would provide him with room to breathe.

“Fetch me the Prophet like a good dog.” He sneered.

The dog growled softly, but allowed himself to be nudged out from under the blankets. He trotted out of the room with his plumed tail raised haughtily. Severus unfurled his stiff pale limbs across the creaky mattress.

Five minutes became fifteen. Severus drifted into a half-doze where he could have sworn he heard the sound of tearing. Then he was jolted awake by the cold nose, rough paws, and something damp thrust in his face. He spluttered and yanked the newspaper away from the dog, who seemed to be enjoying beating him about the face with it triumphantly. It was not until he was dressed and seated in his office that he actually unfolded the paper and glanced at the front page.

“Reports of—” was the headline. It was accompanied by an image that was similarly truncated. A tiny Cornelius Fudge hung onto the bottom edge for dear life, trying not to fall into the large hole that had been eaten out of the newspaper.

“Damn it, Black!” he shouted at the retreating wagging tail.

___

 

“Severus.”

Several mornings later, Severus Snape heard his name. In the no man’s land between wakefulness and dream, the voice sounded soft and far away. He was feeling very warm, although his arm seemed to be sore for some reason. He decided that the voice must be calling from a dream and settled back into his pillow.

“Severus. Severus.” The voice repeated, the soreness in his arm intensifying to a rhythmic throbbing,

“Sev. Sev. Snape. Severus.”

No, his dreams were rarely this annoying. He opened his eyes to see two large, grey, human eyes staring back. 

“There’s an owl at the window.” Said the man whose face hovered inches away from his own.

Severus instinctively lashed out, pushing the person away as hard as he could. Sirius Black tumbled off the bed gracelessly.

“If you spring that on me again, Black, I’ll hex you!” Severus snarled, fumbling on the night table for his wand. 

The handsome tousled head peeking above the mattress just laughed, 

“You wouldn’t hex Snuffles.”

Severus Snape threw the alarm clock at him instead.

The owl waited patiently until the black dog galloped out of the room and the sallow faced wizard opened the window.


	10. Chapter 10

The house at Spinner’s End had long been filled with silences. When Severus was a boy, they would stretch and break like rubber bands that left his fingers red and swollen. For a few minutes, there would be shouting, sobbing, glass breaking, and the snap of an open palm across a cheek. Some time after Severus was curled in the back of his closet, the silence would return, thick and lax for the next few days. 

Long after Severus was too tall to fold himself into corners, the silence returned for good. It was no longer a tense silence stretching thin, but a stagnant one that grew darker and more viscous with time. He did not listen to the radio or watch television--both brought back too many memories-- and he was far too cautious a spy to talk out loud to himself when he worked. He told himself that he liked the quiet, that there was nothing worse than the constant chatter of children in the halls of Hogwarts. But every year he found himself staying at school later into the term holidays and returning there earlier. He liked to think that it was because he had things to do, and not because his own house was cold and empty as a tomb.

As with so many other things in Severus’ life, that damn dog changed the silence. The difference was so much more than just the ever-present sound of skittering claws. Now, there was  _ conversation.  _ Snuffles was always there; waking Severus up in the morning, eating breakfast by his side, watching him work, accompanying him out and about; and though he never said anything in plain English, the dog had his own way of communicating his thoughts on anything and everything. It was only natural to reply to his meaningful looks and sharp exhalations. 

It was natural to greet the dog when he came into the room, to read the Prophet aloud to him in the mornings, to discuss his students’ ridiculous essays as he graded, to comment on the unnecessarily vague instructions in the potions tomes, to gripe to him about passerby on their Mondays in the park.

Completely natural. Normal, even. 

___

 

    “Fetch the belladonna from the bottom shelf.” Severus requested, stirring the potion with one hand and turning the pages of an obscure text with the other. Snuffles obediently got up from his cushion next to the desk and began to rummage about the shelves. To be sure, Severus could have retrieved the belladonna and let the potion stir itself, but, however useful magic might be, he still preferred to do some things by hand. Besides, it was rather nice to have a helping hand (so to speak).

Severus remembered Sirius being utterly useless at potions in school, but his canine sense of smell was invaluable when brewing now. He could remember and identify all of the common ingredients by scent, and was even learning to tell how a brew was progressing based on changes in its odor. Best of all, he could follow orders without talking back...generally.

     The potion darkened to ultramarine as Severus stirred--clockwise thrice, anticlockwise four times. He checked the instructions, reassuring himself that the color and consistency were what was expected at this stage. All was as it ought to be, as long as the last ingredient was added in the next few minutes. He waited patiently, listening to the sounds of the dog rummaging around in the cupboards. 

His patience was wearing thin when the potion veered towards emerald and began to sizzle. It could still be salvaged if the dog would just hurry up, but there was no indication from the other side of the room that the belladonna would be forthcoming.

“Stop faffing about and bring it here!” Severus snapped.

The only response was a harried yip and the rustle of packaging. The potion progressed from a quiet sizzle to an alarming hiss as steam began flowing over the lip of the cauldron to billow across the desk. It was becoming harder and harder to stir with one hand.

“Black!” Severus snarled as the smoke rose up to obscure his vision. It shimmered grey and artichoke and stung his eyes like onion fumes.

Then a hand emerged from the fog to sprinkle a handful of dark powder into the cauldron.

Severus leapt back in surprise, dropping the mixing spoon. 

The smoke thinned immediately, but the scent of burning rubber choked the air. Severus bent double and wiped streaming eyes as he coughed out what he meant to be a string of curses, but sounded more like Gobbledegook. Just when he was starting to his breath back, it was knocked out of him again by a heavy hand smacking him between his shoulder blades. 

“You’re all out of belladonna, by the way. I substituted dandelion root since they smelled about the same.”

The hoarse voice sent a shiver down Severus’ spine. 

“You’re hardly qualified to make such a substitution.” he retorted when he was finally able, keeping his eyes on the cauldron.

“Would you rather I let it explode?”

Severus turned to glare up at Black, but held back the caustic response that weighed on his tongue. There had been no real harm done. The potion was simmering happily, having returned to its previous hue. All he really wanted at that moment was for Black to stop looking at him like that--with grey human eyes that made his skin prickle. The warm weight of the hand on his back was crushing, so he shrugged it off irritably and turned back to his desk. 

"Need anything else?"

To Severus’ embarrassment, he started. He glanced over his shoulder. Sirius Black was  _ still there _ , all one hundred ninety centimeters of him, a corner of his lips pulled up in that stupid smirk as he watched Severus squirm. Severus’ eyes narrowed as he regained control over himself. No one made Severus Snape  _ squirm _ . Not anymore. 

“Slice that shrivelfig.” he ordered imperiously, gesturing to the other end of the work table. 

A few minutes later, Sirius cleared his throat before approaching with the cutting board. Severus took it and wrinkled his nose at the irregular pieces.

"You slice like you don't have any thumbs." he grumbled, pouring them into a new cauldron and handing the board back to Sirius. 

“The wormwood next.”


End file.
